why being a TCK/expatriate is so weird

I've been reading "The Art of Coming Home" by Craig Storti. What follows are resulting ruminations.

Being a TCK means being a paradox that walks around on two legs and talks (sometimes sensibly, and sometimes not so sensibly). Here are a few illustrations:

I can travel around all of Europe, sleeping on trains, carrying nothing but a backpack, and enjoy it.
I can stand up to irate cleaning ladies in train station bathrooms and sling back as good as they're dishing out to me.
I can converse in three languages and order from menus in six.
I started traveling across the world by myself via airplane when I was 15. (And I've crossed the Atlantic more than fifty times.)
I have more than passing acquaintance with the cultures of four different countries.

BUT:

I don't know how to use an ATM.
I don't know how to open a bank account.
Highway systems mystify me.
I wouldn't have a clue how to operate a gas oven.
I don't know how to buy a car.
I don't know how to buy a house.
I have a lot of trouble boiling eggs.
Until a few days ago, I'd never had a library card or checked out a library book on my own.
I don't know who the mayor of my city of residence is.
And a plethora of other things.

As a TCK, I have a storehouse of experiences and skills that enable me to function on a global scale. But when it comes down to some of the practical details of everyday life, I am often operating solely on guesswork.

I'm not bemoaning this; it is who I am. I don't feel any sort of desperation to "fix" the things on that second list. I am definitely interested in self-improvement, but most of those things, I figure, I'll learn in the course of life. I just thought I'd offer these two lists as an example of the TCK paradox--because unlike Tigger, I am not the only one. ;o)

i am up to my old tricks...

...of staying up till all hours of the night. Or the wee hours of the morn, if you will. Or even if you won't. Either way, I've gotta get out of this nightowl routine again, or I'm never gonna get adjusted over here.

Speaking of adjusting, here's a funny thing, if you think this kind of thing is funny: While we lived in Chemnitz, I spent September through May of every year feeling almost unbearably cold, especially where the temperature of my poor footsies was concerned. No matter how much I bundled up, I was usually cold. The acquisition of a hot water bottle a few years ago was a great help, but I had to keep it filled with almost boiling water at all times, otherwise it was useless. ("The boy's Eustace, m'lord!" "'Useless'? I dare say he is!") So most of the time, I simply bundled up and froze and made sure as many people as possible were aware of my utter misery. (Sorry, friends.)

Since we've been here in OKC, I haven't been cold. At least, not as bone-deep, ice cold as I usually am this time of year. This is partially due to the fact that the weather here is a bit warmer than in Chemnitz, and partially due to the central heating prevalent in this part of the country. In most places here, including in my own apartment, I have been warm to the point of feeling uncomfortable.

Until this morning.

Yesterday, when I started unpacking boxes, I got too warm. The sun was shining outside, so the apartment got pretty toasty as the day wore on. Finally, I just switched the heating system off, and it has been off ever since. Today, I even had the windows open, so as to create a through-train (draft). Yup. On purpose.

Okay, now here's the funny thing: This morning (or, rather, yesterday morning, since it is already the 20th), while sitting at breakfast, I got cold.

And I liked it.

Because it felt like home.

something random i think i'm going to miss

Most nights around this time, if I'm awake (which I frequently--okay, usually--am), I hear the street cleaner go by. The street cleaner is this little, boxy, orange vehicle that comes out at night to clean the streets of Chemnitz (kind of like the robot mice in the house in the nuclear disaster area in one of Ray Bradbury's short stories, but a lot less morbid).

The street cleaner has a huge, round brush and an assortment of other cleansing nozzles, gizmos and whatsits attached to its underside. So at night, when all the good little children are asleep, and naughty little Courtney is yet again putting off going to bed, the street cleaner whirs and whines its way up our street and then, awhile later, back down again on the other side.

The whirring and whining kind of make for a melancholy sound. I wish I could say that the thing chuckles to itself or something equally quirky, but it doesn't. It just whines and whirs and sounds kind of like a big, sad vacuum cleaner from a distance. This is one of those sounds that, for me, is distinctly Germany. It's a sound I think I'm going to miss.

question

Found this in an old email from Bri today:

Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, 'I think I'll squeeze these dangly things here and drink whatever comes out'?

LOL ;oD

funny foibles and so forth

The following is part of a comment I left on Alisha's blog and considered worth immortalizing here:

I compulsively count stairs. In our stairwell, three of our staircases have nine stairs each, one staircase has ten stairs, and the one leading to the back door has five stairs. That's 42, which is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. I remain, therefore, convinced that counting stairs (and other things) is a worthwhile pastime.

And if I step on a crack in the sidewalk with my left foot, I have to step on a crack with my right foot, too. Otherwise, I feel unbalanced. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable psychological explanation for this, but I haven't found it yet. ;o)

In other news, I'm working on finishing ETM homework this week, so I might not be able to continue regaling you with tall tales of traveling. Day Three, however, *is* written, so if I can get around to working with the pictures, I'll post that sometime this week.

Generall overall mood: melancholy and lethargic because I have too much to do and have passed the point at which the workload is a motivating challenge. Instead, it has become an overwhelming task of monumental proportions, leaving me feeling drained and nearly unable to concentrate on anything that I actually need to be doing.

Part of the reason I've taken on so much and am procrastinating about it is that the workload and the procrastination are providing an escape from having to think about what's coming ( --> moving).

However, don't feel sorry for me, Gentle Readers. I'll be fine eventually. :o)

lifecasting: not for the faint of heart (i guess)

A couple of days ago, I saw a report on Yahoo! about a phenomenon called "lifecasting": People strap cameras to their heads and broadcast their lives over the Internet 24/7. In a way, this has been done before by those who set up 24-hour webcams in their dorm rooms, office cubicles, refrigerators, what-have-you. The difference here is that lifecasting is mobile; people are broadcasting their lives as they live them, outside of their homes, everywhere they go.

Call me antiquated, but I think this is kind of odd. The word "nutty" comes to mind. Yeah, I'm kind of indulging voyeurism by having a journal that is accessible to the world (see: blog) and by reading other people's blogs. However, I do not record every moment of my private life here, and I don't read every moment of other people's private lives. Lifecasters have no private lives.

The only time this one guy turns his camera off is when he goes into public restrooms, because otherwise he'd be breaking the law. Even when he's having sex with his date, he leaves the camera on, though it's turned toward the wall with the mic off. That's something anyway, I suppose.

Another lifecaster allows her viewers to give her direction on what to do. If they say, "Buy and drink a cappucino," she buys and drinks a cappucino. (She carries her laptop around with her so that she can remain in constant contact with her viewers.) So far, she refuses to obey orders to take off her clothes in front of a mirror, but I wonder how long this resolution will last.

Lifecasting, to me, is just a bizarre phenomenon. It's like "Big Brother" on steroids. I suppose George Orwell would be thrilled.

ruminations of the sleep-deprived

As I write, it is Saturday morning, 5:04 a.m. Even if you don't know me well, you probably do know that I am rarely awake this early in the day. Even as a new intrepid jogger, I do not get up this early. Just on general principle. Please note that this is 'principle' not 'principal.'

Anyway...so there I was, fast asleep and minding my own business, when I suddenly realized that I was wide awake. Instead of fighting it like I usually do, I decided to give in and get up.

Hear that wailing? That's night owls everywhere screaming, "Noooooooooooooooo!"

;o)

So here I am, blogging just after five in the morning. And rather slowly, too, as I'm sitting at Ed's desk, using his Mac and his Mac keyboard. (Would that be a MacKeyboard?) Just for the record, I love the Mac, but I hate its keyboard. I have to pound each key with something like vehement fury in order to get it to produce anything. I fIjust tyoe the wayI usually do, i get something like this. Oh,a nd didi mention that the keys are space somewhtdifferently than on my laptop?

In case you haven't already noticed, I have no particular reason for blogging at this time. Meaning, I have no particular subject in mind. I am simply awake at 5 a.m. and needed something to do but didn't feel like doing anything that actually needs to be done. Besides, it's Saturday.

I have a zit on my chin, and it hurts. When I was a teenager, I thought that adulthood was supposed to be free of such things. (Zits, that is, not chins.) Well into adulthood now, I have discovered, to my dismay and disappointment, that this is not the case. I feel somewhat hoodwinked by this.

My parents, who are living with us for the month of July, are currently in Greece. Part of their trip is a cruise, and I guess they must be on it now, because yesterday evening, Mama called and left a voicemail: "Hi, we just wanted to call and let you know that we're having fun," etc. I was amused, even through my envy. ;o)

Although I suppose that I shouldn't be too envious......considering that I get to go to Scotland in less than a month! Wahooooooo!!!! I am so excited about this! We were supposed to go with Clint and April when they went last year, but it didn't work out. So Ed gave me this Scotland trip as my Christmas present. Brief and very vague itinerary: One day in London/Corby with our friend Patrick; one day of fellwalking with Patrick in the Lake District (and maybe with Kevin, too???); then head to the Dundee area and see Dundee, Stirling, Edinburgh, St. Andrews, Glasgow?, and hopefully drive to the highlands for a day. And we hope to see our friends Tristan and Leslie in Stirling! I have no clue if this is all possible in a 9-day trip (5-day, if you don't count London/Lake District/travel), but that's our current inkling of a conceptual hypothesis. I haven't had the time or the brains, so far, to study all the travel materials we've collected and look into specifics. However, Ed and I are going to sit down together sometime this coming week and figure it all out, so I'll keep you posted.

Yaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy, we're going to Scotland!!!!!!

Oh yeah, speaking of voicemail messages... Over the last month or so, Ed and I have received two phone calls to our Skype number in the middle of the night. Both times, neither of us woke up in time to get to the phone--although we *were* woken up--so both calls left messages:

Call #1: 4 a.m. Rustling, music somewhere in the background, then talking as though from a distance. No words distinguishable. More rustling. Then, a new voice talking, but this one sounds like a toy. And it sounds like several toys talking at once, overlapping each other: "I need a hug!" "What are we going to do today?" "(something-something-indistinguishable) hooray!" "I need a hug!" "What are we going to do today?" "(something-something-indistinguishable) hooray!" "I need a hug!" And so forth. More rustling. Then the toy voices start up again. The voicemail message continues in this vein for five minutes before stopping abruptly.

Call #2: 1 a.m. Rustling. Talking in the background. A kid's voice (real, not a toy), or maybe a toddler's. More rustling. An adult's voice, words indistinguishable. Then the adult says what sounds like "No, no, no!" More rustling. End.

Ed and I can't figure out who in the world is leaving these weird messages! The voicemails sound as though the person didn't know they had called, like they'd accidentally dialed the number or something. It's gotta be someone we know, but we can't figure out who it could be. Both times, the computer has been off (which is why our regular phone rang), so we haven't been able to see the number that was calling. It's just all very weird.

The first message reminds me of the time Ed and I (before we were married) used his talking Alf toy to leave a message on my roommate Tamara's voicemail, and she thought she was getting an obscene phone call. ;o)

Okay, it's now 5:45, and I think that's enough for one blopgost. If you read all of this ramblingness, you get a cookie. Enjoy.

Me, I'm gonna give the keyboard a rest from my vehement fury.

weird...just weird

So sometimes, as I'm getting ready to "close up shop" at the end of the day (i.e. shut down the computer, because the last thing I usually do before getting ready for bed is check email), a peculiar feeling creeps up on me. It's one that seems to be of the melancholy variety...but it's always coupled with this sense of anticipation. I feel melancholy and almost as though I need to stay online *just a few more minutes* because I'm waiting for something. And then I find myself piddling around the Internet, looking at blogs and other similar sites and wondering about people.

I dunno. It's just weird. If you know me at all, you know that I don't like to read too much into feelings; meaning that I don't believe that just because I'm experiencing a certain emotion, it means that some cosmic event is afoot. I don't know why I get this weird feeling sometimes, but I won't claim it's because I have some kind of spiritual extra-sensory perception that something momentous is imminent.

Maybe I'm subconsciously hoping for something I know won't happen.

Or maybe I'm just tired.

Or maybe I'm just losing my mind. ;o)

10 random/weird things

Well, here's another idea I've stolen from Patricia's blog. Technically, I'm supposed to tag five other people to do this, but since I doubt anyone would respond to my tagging them, and since the five people I would probably tag are not at all likely to respond to my tagging them, I'm not going to tag anybody, but I will, instead, play the game all by myself for my own entertainment and for the amusement of hapless wanderers who find themselves sucked into reading my blog. *insert maniacal laughter here*

So. The point of the thing is this: List 10 weird things/habits/little known facts about yourself. Here goes:

1. I really like puréed, cooked spinach, boiled eggs, and mashed potatoes. Mixed together.

2. Superheroes (i.e. Superman, Batman, Wolverine, etc.) are one of my secret "guilty pleasures."

Not so secret now, I guess. ;o)

3. I don't eat my pizza crusts until after I've eaten all the pieces of pizza. Then, if I still have room, I eat one or two of the crusts.

4. Invite me over to your house. If your toilet paper is directed under the roll instead of over, I will gladly change it for you.

5. I cry at most movies. And at really random scenes. Like the scence at the beginning of "Fellowship of the Ring," where Gandalf arrives and Frodo is happy to see him. Yes, that makes me cry. The reason? I have no clue.

6. Most of my deepest feelings come out in my art and my poetry; I'm rarely able to speak them aloud.

7. One of my favorite mementos is a paperclip bent into the shape of a heart. I carry it around in my purse. (And no, I'm not going to elaborate on its significance.) ;o)

8. I always dream in color; I usually dream in stories (IMAX theater in my head); and I sometimes dream in German.

9. When I was a kid, I went through a phase of wanting to be an archaeologist. I even wrote a letter to Mary Leakey in Nairobi, but she never wrote back.

10. I have a faint, L-shaped scar on my bottom lip.

Ta-dah. ;o)

my mama's health, my health, and other odds 'n' ends

 
I talked to my dad a few minutes ago, and everything with Mama's surgery went fine. Thanks to God! After surgery, they had to give her a bit more pain medication than expected, but that's not outside the realm of normal. She's home now and sleeping. Tomorrow morning, she and Daddy will go back to the doctor, and he'll hopefully be able to tell them more about the cyst. My hearfelt thanks to those of you who prayed for my parents and for the doctors. God has it all in his hands, and that's a great comfort and encouragement to me. We would all be so worried if not for him! Anyway, thanks to those of you who've been supporting my parents in prayer. 

Over the weekend, I'd considered heading over to my parents' place yesterday, in order to be there for the surgery today. Now I'm glad I didn't do it. The last thing my recovering mother needs is a sick person in the house. Yep, that'd be me. 

Gunk in my head, my throat feels like I've been gargling gravel, and my body aches with exhaustion of the kind you get from running a marathon. It always amazes me that there are people who can get a sinus infection and yet still manage to go to work (even though they *should* be in bed). If I weren't in what is basically a self-employment job, I would've gotten fired a long time ago. I was up and around for three hours yesterday, taking the bus to the doctor and pharmacy, then back home again. I barely have the words to describe the misery. Even sitting in the doctor's waiting room, I started getting dizzy. Sit at a desk or stand up and teach all day? Forget it. 

No antibiotics this time, though. The doctor said it's too soon since the last time. I tend to agree.....but I have my doubts about getting rid of this any other way. She's also sending me to an ear-nose-throat specialist tomorrow, for an ultrasound on my sinuses. Yippee. 

This is so annoying. And so uninteresting to read about, I'm sure. Sorry I can't offer anything more fascinating. I *could* write about the news article I read this morning. It described how the Mormons will probably "baptize" the current Roman Catholic pope after his death, because the Mormons "baptize" dead people into Mormonism by proxy. They "baptized" John Paul II by proxy a year after his death. They did the same with Hitler, Stalin, and Genghis Khan. I could write a long article about how silly I think this is. I just don't have the mental energy for it!

minor stuff; Dream #93 in online translator mode

Long day of researching, I'm tired, I will try to answer all newest comments as soon as possible, I'm sorry for this run-on sentence; and in the meantime, here's a fun something that I wrote as a draft awhile back but didn't publish; enjoy:

Dream #93

I Rejoice Me Just, That The House Not Burned Down

recorded June 21, 2006

Once at night about several weeks, dream I can recollect is not finished with someone, a cigarette lighting, and I could smell in a smoke. Then the dream came to an end, and I woke up, but I could smell in a smoke. I lay there since the several moments, convinced, that the smell was prolongation of dream and would disappear at any moment. Some moments went, but the smell did not dissipate. I was declined and shook awake Ed. " Ed! Whether you Smell in a smoke? I smell in a smoke!"

I heard it, in a gloom smelling. Then it spoke, "Is not present, I not smell in what. Come back to sleep. " And it again rolled to itself.

I understood, that now I also could not smell on it more. I laid down again, already in a dream receding, hoping, that Ed really had no also our apartment on fire was. But until then I have lowered already too far back to a dream to rise and check things.

achtung, baby! here comes U2 instead of I AM

 
I just read this on Yahoo! a few minutes ago:

_________________________________________

"U2-charist": Bono moves in mysterious ways

LONDON (Reuters)--For Anglicans who still haven't found what they're looking for, the Church of England is staging its first "U2-charist" communion service -- replacing hymns with hit songs by the Irish supergroup.

"Rock music can be a vehicle of immense spirituality," said Bishop of Grantham Timothy Ellis, announcing plans for the unique service in the central English town of Lincoln in May.

A live band is to play U2 classics like "Beautiful Day" and "Mysterious Ways" with special singalong lyrics displayed on a giant screen. Seating for the 500-strong congregation is to be re-arranged so everyone can dance and wave their hands.

The service is to focus on the Millennium development goals -- U2's lead singer Bono is a leading promoter of the targets to alleviate world poverty.

________________________________________

Ummm........?

Thoughts?

as though i had nothing better to do.....

 

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